


The Bet

by beetle



Category: Star Trek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:19:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/pseuds/beetle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the slashthedrabble prompt, "heat." Pavel is shy, even on Leave, and he does *not* wear tighty-whities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bet

**Author's Note:**

> Notes/Warnings: None.

  
“. . . then I cross-pollinated it with this quasi-venus-flytrap I found on Sylgalaus IV, and you're not even listening to a single thing I'm saying. Asshole,” Hikaru adds good-naturedly, tossing back the last of his Bolian ale. “Just go over there and say  _hi_.”  
  
  
Pavel shakes his head. “I cannot. He is chief medical officer and I am . . . am. . . .”  
  
  
“Five hours into Leave, and yet still not drunk enough to be brave?” Hikaru snorts, and glances over at the corner table where McCoy and Kirk are drinking, and talking intentlly. “Faint heart never won fine-ass doctor.”  
  
  
“Huh. Nor fair keptin, Hikaru.” Pavel finally takes his eyes off McCoy for long enough to catch Hikaru rolling his own. “I have seen the way the keptin looks at you, and if the doctor looked at _me_  like that—“  
  
  
“He probably would, if you were more assertive,” Hikaru interjects.  
  
  
“If the doctor looked at me once the way I've seen the keptin look at you, I would never let him out of my bed.”  
  
  
“Bold words.”  
  
  
“Certainty should make one bold.” Pavel quirks an eyebrow and glances over at McCoy and Kirk. Catches them looking back, and glances quickly away. “Do not look, but they are watching us.”  
  
  
“Really?” And of course the first thing Hikaru  _does_  is look. It's mortifying, truly it is. Especially when he calls out: “Hey, can we join you guys?”  
  
  
Pavel kicks Hikaru's leg under the table But after two years of friendship—with on-and-off benefits—he's used to Pavel treating him like a football. “What are you  _doing_?!”  
  
  
“Being bold, of course.” Hikaru winks. From the corner of his eye, Pavel can see McCoy and Kirk wave them over.  
  
  
“I am going to kill you,” he says pleasantly through clenched teeth. “Twice.”  
  
  
“Later,” Hikaru replies just as pleasantly, standing up and dragging Pavel with him. By the time they cross the bar, Kirk is grinning his rakish—drunken—grin and the doctor is smiling his strained, distracted smile. Pavel returns both toothily, and gets a puzzled, wary look from McCoy.  
  
  
“Sssso, Bones and I were placing bets on what kinda underwear you and Chekov wear--”  
  
  
“We were  _not_ ,” the doctor exclaims, looking scandalized. “Shut up, Jim. You’re too drunk to be sayin’ peep to anyone, let alone Lieutenant Death-wish and Ensign Jailbait.”  
  
  
“I say boxer-briefs.” Kirk goes on obliviously, charmingly, eyeing Hikaru. “So who owes whom replimat credits, boys?”  
  
  
“Well,” Hikaru starts, at the same time Pavel pipes up automatically. “Actually, I prefer to go . . . how do you say? Ah. Commando.”  
  
  
Then he covers his mouth when every eye at the table lands on him. His face heats up like a five-alarm fire and he starts to backpedal, now utterly, abysmally mortified. “I mean—em—“  
  
  
“Hah! Hand over those credits, Jim!” McCoy blurts out then covers his own mouth, looking absolutely mortified, himself.  
  
  
“Tighty-whities,” Hikaru says cheerfully into the uncomfortable silence.  
  
  
“That is sssso hot,” Kirk slurs, then passes out.


End file.
